


Peaches

by thedaughterofkings



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Kid Fic, Little League Quidditch, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedaughterofkings/pseuds/thedaughterofkings
Summary: If Stiles had known that taking his son to little league quidditch would finally score him a date with his life-long crush, he would have done it years ago. Though he could have done without all the fruit innuendos.
-or- 
The Mandatory Harry Potter AU





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [this post](http://thedaughterofkings.tumblr.com/post/111464402416/shorm-onlyslightly-moosesweaters-i-have) about little league quidditch and first posted on my tumblr [here](http://thedaughterofkings.tumblr.com/post/111512900661/because-i-couldnt-stop-thinking-about-sterek-and). 
> 
> Beta-read by the wonderful [Larissa](http://ohfuckthisshit.tumblr.com/)!

“Buddy, I'm sorry but we're leaving.”

 

Stiles turns around and tries to tug his eight-year-old away from the Quidditch pitch. But Colin just digs his heels in and refuses to move along with him, so Stiles has to stop after just a few steps if he doesn't want to drag his son through the mud.

 

“Daaad! You promised!” Wow, his kid really has whiny down. And he's loud – Stiles can already see a few heads turning their way, though thankfully not yet the one he's willing to face his kid's eternal wrath for, if he can only avoid facing  _ him _ .

 

“I know I promised, but I can't do this!”

 

Merlin's sagging underpants, his kid has definitely spent too much time with Lydia; that glare is lethal.

 

“You are not even supposed to  _ do  _ anything, Daaad!” Yup, still whining. This doesn't look good for Stiles.

 

“You are supposed to sit there and watch me play Quidditch with _ Derek Hale _ .”

 

By Minerva, his kid says it as though Derek Hale is the second coming of the chosen one – never mind that Potter is still alive and kicking. Stiles can't stop himself from mumbling:   
  


“That's the problem, really.”

 

Colin's face changes so quickly that Stiles is getting emotional whiplash. Instead of disappointed and this close to use angry tears as the ultimate weapon, a grin is spreading across Colin's face that is decidedly too dirty for an eight-year-old. Again, Stiles blames Lydia. Though Allison does have a wicked sense of humour that gets increasingly explicit if she's had a bit of firewhiskey. Either way, Stiles blames his friends because he has been very careful about his language where the ears of impressionable children can hear him.

 

“Do you no longer want to go, Dad, because 'Derek Hale's bum is as plump as a ripe and ready peach'?”

 

Well, apparently he hasn't been as careful as he’d thought. Colin even does the finger quotation marks and Stiles is already prepared to let the floor swallow him up when someone else speaks up.

 

“What's this about peaches? Is your half-time snack a peach, petal?”

 

Stiles barely bites back a whimper because that sounded like … – yup, that's Derek Hale who's currently crouching down to be eye to eye with his son.

 

“I'm not a flower, Mr Hale!”

 

Colin obviously is no longer as enamored with _ Derek Hale _ as he was just a few minutes ago. Stiles does not feel a thrill at that, no sir.

 

Derek doesn't seem bothered by Colin's pout-glare – Stiles can't see it, but he knows his son, and the pout-glare is directed his way far too often. Derek just looks at Colin and asks:

 

“Not even a rad carnivorous flower?”

 

Colin tilts his head and asks back:

 

“What's a carnivalous flower?”

 

“Carnivorous. They eat flies.”

 

Colin thinks about it for a few moments and then leans closer to Derek Hale, whispering as though he's telling him a secret. Stiles finds himself leaning closer, too, because no way is his son having secrets with Derek Hale and not him.

 

“I once swallowed a fly.”

 

Hale nods very seriously and says: “Come on then, petal, do you want to play some Quidditch?”

 

And Stiles can only watch as the love of his life walks away from him. And yes, he's talking about his son, not Derek Hale's perky peach bubble butt in far too tight trousers. Seriously, how is he sitting on a broom in those – and no, bad brain, delete image, delete image. He's surrounded by kids, Helga help him.

 

After a few deep breaths to settle himself, he follows his son and his – err, the son stealing Quidditch star that spends his free time coaching little league Quidditch teams. It really isn't fair.

 

When he makes it onto the pitch, it's as though he's put on an Invisibility Cloak – no one even looks at him, everyone's focused on Derek freaking Hale. Stiles is decidedly not sulking when he sits down in the stands after trying – and failing – to catch his son's eye, who is too busy holding Derek Hale's hand and chattering his ear off. And if he's glaring at the mom on Derek's other side, it's because she's trying to distract Hale from his son, not because she's doing it by feeling him up.

 

Hale he means, not his son; if she'd felt up his son, he would have hit her with a hex.

 

The next two hours are hell for Stiles.

 

Derek enchants the entire pitch so that the brooms won't rise higher than 3 feet and brings out some child sized brooms, decorated with various animals. Some brooms even have ears or tails - not exactly a streamlined design, but then that’s not really the purpose of the brooms either. Derek hands them out one by one, a 'bunny' to a little redhead that has to be a Weasley, a 'kitten' to a tiny girl with a huge head of curls that are just slightly darker than her skin, and – Stiles notes with satisfaction – the 'pup' to Colin, who grins widely enough that Stiles can see his tooth gap from across the pitch.

 

And then the game starts, with real snitches – though their speed is at the lowest level possible – but none of the other balls. Instead there's various stuffed animals. There is a snail that's apparently supposed to be the quaffle, because the kids start cheering when the kitten girl throws it through one of the hula hoop rings that are on either side of the pitch. The bludgers are two teddy bears. But they are not enchanted, instead the kids just throw them at each other. If one falls to the ground, Derek runs over there and throws it back into the game. Stiles is very happy to note that he never crouches but always leans over to pick up the teddy bear. Judging by their sighs, the other parents agree with him.

 

It's definitely not anything close to a real Quidditch game; the teams change every second it seems – Stiles has definitely seen Colin throw the snail through both hoops with cheers coming from all kids in both cases – and sometimes a child doesn't throw the teddy bear bludger at another child but just cuddles it for a few moments.

 

But it's wonderful watching how much fun they are all having, bright red cheeks and fly-away hair, and Stiles finds himself wishing he was down there with his kid and Derek, throwing around teddy bears and picking up the little redhead that has fallen off his broom again. His knees are bright green already, but he's still grinning widely and just scrambles onto his broom again.

  
The two hours are over before Stiles knows it. He even brought a book to pass the time but watching the children, and yes, their coach, too, turned out to be much more entertaining than he’d expected.

 

The exercise is showing though; Stiles is counting more and more children yawning and the little Weasley boy looks as though he isn't going to grin the next time he falls off his broom but wail like a banshee. Thankfully Derek seems to recognize the signs as well and snatches the snitch out of the air. The poor ball had been trying its best to get caught, even going so far as to come to rest on the open palm of one of the seekers. But she'd just shaken it off and gone for the snail flying past her instead.

 

As soon as the game is over, the stands empty quickly, mums and dads rushing towards the pitch to pluck their children off their brooms and possibly flirt with Derek Hale some more. Stiles would go down there, too, but Colin is talking animatedly with redhead and curls and Stiles is happy he's making friends beside his quasi-cousins. Scott's kids are great, but they are less than half Colin's age and he could really use some friends in his own age group.

 

When he lets his eyes sweep across the pitch – not looking for anyone, _ really _ – he can't help but notice that Derek must have slipped out in the excitement already. And no, it's not disappointment that makes his chest tighten; it's not as though he'd ever have had the courage to finally do something about his life-long crush. Well, okay not life-long, but Stiles is pretty sure that it started when eleven-year-old Stiles Stilinski first saw seventh year Derek Hale backflip off his broom to smack a bludger away from his sister's face, so it's been a few years.

 

“Well, where are you hiding those peaches then?” a voice suddenly asks from behind him and Stiles isn't proud to say that he shrieks and falls off his seat.

 

Lying on his back between the rows, he looks up to see the object of his affections leaning over him, offering him a hand.

 

Dazedly, Stiles takes it and finds himself far closer to Derek's face than he's ever been before – the poster in his old bedroom does not count, thank you very much.

 

“Are you okay? I didn't mean to sneak up on you, sorry,” Derek says, for some reason still holding onto Stiles' hand. Stiles feels his cheeks heat up and drags a hand through his hair, probably messing it up even more.

 

“Yeah, no worries, I'm fine. What were you talking about before I did my dramatic fainting routine?”

 

And wow, is that a blush creeping across Derek Hale's cheeks? It's hard to tell because he's already flushed from running around the pitch after children on brooms all afternoon, but Stiles is pretty sure that the red is getting darker and spreading out.

 

“You said you had peaches earlier and ever since I've been craving them and I was hoping you'd let me take a bite?”

 

And he ducks his head and looks up through his lashes and just is far more adorable than a heavily muscled professional beater has any right to be. Which is what Stiles is blaming for his total brain shut down because the next thing he says is:

 

“I want to bite your peaches!”

 

And Merlin's beard does he wish he had that Invisibility Cloak now.

 

Derek stares at him, ears bright red by now.

 

“You, you mean?”

 

Derek is stammering and the blush is spreading down his chest now, and Merlin, Minerva, and Morgana, he is tugging up his shirt until his nipples are on display and cupping his pectorals as if they were breasts.

 

Stiles scrambles to shove his hands away and draw his shirt back down.

 

“Salazar save us, there are children around! Stop stripping!”

 

Derek just stares at him and then down where Stiles' hands are still smoothing down his shirt over his front. Stiles draws his hands away as though he was burnt.

 

“You were the one talking about my _ peaches _ !”

 

Stiles groans because Derek manages to make it sound far dirtier than it is.

 

“I meant your peachy posterior, not your plump pecs!”

 

And okay, perhaps it _ is _ that dirty. And perhaps Stiles should stop using alliterations to describe Derek's everything. He closes his eyes in humiliation and hopes that Derek will just leave and let him die in shame alone.

 

But Derek surprises him by letting out a deep-bellowed laugh that rings across the Quidditch pitch. A touch on his shoulder makes Stiles hesitantly open his eyes again and wow, Derek's eyes are really pretty this close.

 

A piece of parchment is placed in his hand and Derek gently curls his fingers closed around it.

 

“I was trying to figure out whether you'd be okay with me asking you out, but I guess that answers that question. This is my floo address and password, floo me anytime, and we'll figure out a time and place for our date, _ peach _ .”

 

And then he presses a quick kiss to Stiles' cheek and backflips off the stands – of course. Stiles places his free hand over his cheek and feels like a princess in a harlequin novel.

 

That's how Colin finds him and because Stiles has to suffer for what he made his dad go through, he shouts loudly:

  
“Does that mean that Derek will let you bite his peaches now?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!   
> I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please leave a comment here or come talk to me on [tumblr](http://thedaughterofkings.tumblr.com/)!


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